


One Song Glory

by obeythesithqueen



Series: Time flies, time dies [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: 1920s, Atomwave if you squint, M/M, Time Travel, bank robbers are technically OC's, because they ain't that old, but more like identical ancestor trope, but not really, but you be you, identical grandson trope, not really intended, this is honestly the longest one-shot I've ever written, well maybe Snart, which means this deviates a bit from canon, written before Marooned, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 13:51:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6660826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obeythesithqueen/pseuds/obeythesithqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an attempt to regain the upper hand, the crew travels to San Francisco 1922 to intercept a duo of bank robbers who steal a certain Egyptian dagger from a certain immortal megalomaniac's bank.  However in addition to the uncanny resemblance between one of the bank robbers and a certain winter-themed villain, Ray gets kidnapped, and things slowly fall apart. But honestly, when does anything actually go according to plan when it comes to these guys?</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Song Glory

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So this fic was started before the events of Marooned took place--I'm a slow, lazy writer, okay?--, so it will deviate a bit to canon. Lets just say that the events of this fic occur immediately after Star City 2046. Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you enjoy it, even if the entire premise is a bit dumb. I don't really care. I was half-way through this and kinda wanted to give up, but then I saw the word count, and I was like Hell no. There is no way I'm deleting the 5.6k words I put into this. Then of course it became almost 7.5k, but whatever.
> 
> Title from Rent

“Nothing unusual so far. You sure this is the right place?” Sara asked, scanning the building in front of her. Ivory white columns stood tall on the steps, both imposing and regal. Busy patrons scurried up and down the stairs, keeping their heads down and coats pulled close while cars passed by the edifice quickly, horns honking and tires screeching in the background. This was surreal. 

 

“Positive. I did my research,” came Rip’s voice from their comms. “San Francisco United Bank will be relieved of its capital before noon. The identities of the bank robbers, however, were lost to history, so keep your eyes peeled.” 

 

“And what’s so important about these cons?” Rory’s raspy voice crackled over the coms. 

 

Rip sighed. “These ‘cons’ steal Kendra’s dagger held in this bank before disappearing, the dagger never seen again--at least until the 70’s. Though, it was rumored that Savage stole the artifact back from the robbers, their bodies never to be found. Since we lost the dagger to Savage in 1975, this is our chance to regain the upperhand.”

 

“Well that’s nice and all, but why don’t we just steal it before it’s stolen?” Snart asked with his usual bored drawl.

 

“Well, Mr. Snart, since the artifact becomes lost, it was never properly catalogued, so we have no where it is located. Banks in the 1920’s were extremely unorganized, so searching for this artifact could take days, which is time we do not have. Kendra, Jefferson, Dr. Stein, and myself will attempt to keep Savage away from the bank, while Raymond and Sara track our two bank robbers, so keep your eyes peeled. This may be our only shot.”

 

“Got it,” Ray said. He leaned over to Sara with an excited grin. “This is so cool! Bank robbers!”

 

She raised her eyebrow. “You do realize that both Snart and Rory are considered bank robbers?” she deadpanned. 

 

Ray flushed, pink tinging his cheeks as he floundered, “Well, yes of course. But I meant like the stereotypical tommy gun-toting type gangsters.”

 

Shaking her head, Sara chuckled, as she turned away, climbing the steps into the bank. “Just keep your eyes open, fanboy.”

 

“Right-o partner!” Ray entered the bank, silently marvelling at the architecture in regards to the time period. 

 

Walking up the steps, he entered the bank, briefly taking a moment to scan the room. The lobby was spacious, probably holding a capacity of 160 patrons. There were 12 bank tellers, each manning a station located on the left, right, and directly across from the main entryway. It was fairly busy, a crowd of people waiting to be serviced in front of each station. Hmmm….no signs of trouble. The bank robbers weren’t here...yet. 

 

Sara strutted over to one of the teller lines, mingling with various patrons to get any information on their notorious bank robbers. Ray took a seat on one of the rosin-finished wooden benches, opting to watch Sara’s back and keep an eye out for trouble. He tapped his foot against the cream floor, practically vibrating in excitement. This was so cool! Real bank robbers! Ray was so wrapped up in his thoughts, that he didn’t notice the other man until they sat down next to him, which startled Ray to say the least. 

 

“OH MY--HOLY!” Ray shouted, causing the other to chuckle. Ray’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he took in the other man’s appearance. It was Barry! Wait, no. What would Barry be doing in 1922? The man looked identical to the speedster: same wide smile, same wild brown hair, same bright eyes, hell, even the same fashion sense. Twilight Zone much? Everything was the same--even that ridiculous hairstyle.

 

“Sorry, man. Is it okay if I sit here?” the look-alike-not-Barry asked, giving Ray a bemused smile. Ray shook himself, sending the other a friendly grin.

 

“Of course! I’m, uh, Raymond, by the way.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Raymond,” the man said, sticking out his hand. “Name’s Barton, though everyone calls me Bart.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Bart. And you can call me Ray,” Ray smiled, shaking Bart’s hand in greeting.

 

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Bart got chatty and started making smalltalk. Something about silent films and the flea hop 1 ? Ray seriously should have read up more indepthly on 1920’s culture because he had no idea what Bart was talking about. He sent pointed glances in Sara’s general direction, who wasn’t even looking so nevermind, while simultaneously trying to bluff his way through conversations about the ‘new’ immunizations.

 

“They’ve made a vaccine for the Spanish Flu and Diphtheria. Just think, soon enough, they’ll be a vaccine for every disease!” Bart said animately, his hands mimicking his speech patterns, shooting out in an exaggerated manner the more passionate he became. God, he was so much like Barry, it was truly scary. Even their mannerisms were the same, Bart dragging a hand through his messy hair just like Barry from 2016 did when he was nervous or excited.

 

Bart glanced at the clock on the wall, his posture shifting into something a bit more...contained? Like he knew something exciting was about to happen and was trying to keep himself in check. 

  
  
  


Nah. Maybe he was waiting for someone? Either way, Ray didn’t know and it felt a bit rude to ask, since they just met and all.

 

Though after fifteen minutes of no change, just when Ray was beginning to think that he and Sara were misinformed, Bart stood up, a guilty smile on his lips, his eyes averted, but holding no apology. If anything, they were bright and lively, green irises crackling with energy and mirth.

 

“I’m really sorry about this.” Bart-Not-Barry gave Ray a sheepish smile before pulling a pistol out of his jacket and shooting two rounds off into the ceiling--wait what?. 

 

“This is a robbery! Everyone on the ground! NOW!” 

 

What the heck?!? Ray was shocked to say the least. He scanned the room, frantically searching for Sara when he was forced to the ground. Looking around him, he saw everyone drop to the floor like stones, covering their heads and cowering. Bart took a sack out of his coat pocket, throwing it at the counter lady and shoving his gun in her face. “Fill ‘er up, darlin’. I want all of it.”

* * *

Glancing around, Ray quickly called in his comms, “Found our bank robbers. Back up would be nice.”

 

“Well lookie here. And I thought you’d need help on this,” a man spoke from behind Bart. However instead of threatening to shoot him, Bart smiled and beckoned the other towards him. Looking at his face, Ray suppressed a shocked gasp. It was Snart! But how did he get here so fast? And when would he actually  _ help _ Ray? No, this had to be another weird past relative with an uncanny resemblance to the current Captain Cold--a doppleganger of Snart, holding a Tommy gun and grinning at the Barry Allen look-alike. 

 

“Alright, folks, you heard the man,” Not-Snart boomed, standing up on the counter, pointing his gun at the frightened patron currently cowering from their positions on the floor. “Fill ‘em up!”  The way Not-Snart and Bart worked in tandem with each other was bizarre. Ray was a bit mesmerized watching the two act in total sync. Whenever Bart moved, Not-Snart mirrored the movement and covered his back. They looked so comfortable around each other, exchanging smiles and banter.

 

“Anyone? Please?” Ray whispered into this comm, hoping the others were listening. Professor Stein, Jax, Kendra, and Rip were all tracking this time’s Savage, making sure he stayed away from the bank. They didn’t want Savage to get the drop on them again. Snart and Rory were the only ones on the Waverider, so his hope that someone would answer, let alone help, was low.

 

“Keep filling those bags, people. We want everything! Let's go!” Not-Snart drawled. God, he sounded exactly the same as current Snart. This was so weird. Without taking his eyes off the tellers, Not-Snart smirked and called over his shoulder to Bart, “Having fun yet?” 

 

Wait what? 

 

Bart laughed. His shoulders relaxing a bit as he threatened to blow the heads off of any moving civilians. 

 

“Of course. I mean what else would I rather be doing on this fine night?” Bart smiled half-sarcastic, half-amused. Despite the sass, warmth flooded his expression, igniting the fiery green in his hazel eyes.

 

After ten minutes of packing cash into the bags, Not-Snart and Bart slung the bags over their shoulders and prepared to leave. 

 

“Nobody moves, nobody calls the cops until we leave. Capiche?” Bart said slowly. But before his threat could sink in, Not-Snart grabbed his arm, a thoughtful smirk on his face.

 

“Hold up, little darlin’. Can’t just take their word, now can we?” He sauntered over to Ray, his stride slow and predatory. Ray squirmed away from the menacing man holding a submachine gun from his spot on the floor. And of course this was the perfect time for his atom suit to fall out of his pocket. As soon as he reached for it, the criminal cocked his gun threateningly.

 

Bart shared Not-Snart’s smirk, pointing his pistol at Ray. “Sorry about this...again. Now be a good hostage and come with us, or we’ll have to put a few rounds in ya.” He held out a hand, which Ray accepted with a sigh of defeat. 

 

“Lead the way,” Ray sighed, with a weak smile. Not-Snart grinned, though with far too many teeth to be considered friendly on any measure. 

 

“Don’t worry, I won’t mess with your...whatever this is,” Not-Snart smirked, picking up the dropped case holding Ray’s Atom suit and pocketing the plain looking plastic with interest.

 

“Alright!” shouted Bart. “We have a hostage. Any attempts to call the police or follow us, and this man dies.” Bart held his handgun to Ray’s head for emphasis. Snart 2.0 scanned the room, then after a moment's hesitation, nodded at Bart.

 

“Let’s go. Move!”

 

Ray was half-pulled, half-pushed out of the bank and into a large black coupe. He was shoved into the backseat next to Bart. Once again, he sent Ray that sheepish, apologetic smile. 

 

“Sorry about this...again...for the third time.” With a shrug, Bart pulled back his fist. Seriously?  Ray was tired of being restrained. First the whole gulag incident and now this, seriously? 

* * *

 

The ropes weren’t too tight though. Bart was thoughtful enough to recognize that rope burn was painful. 

 

Coming to, he realized he was in some sort of farmhouse, the walls a cheery yellow in complete contrast with his current situation. He was tied to an old radiator in a kitchen--a well-lived in kitchen--, brick red tile lining the floor. The kitchen was complete with a vintage--or cutting edge, Ray guessed, since this was the 1920’s--black gas stove, white porcelain dish sinks, and cream cabinets filled with pastel china and brass cutlery. 

 

He tugged his wrists away from the radiator, but there was no give, the sisal coils 

 

“Good morning, Princess! Sleep well?” Ray’s head snapped up at Not-Snart’s voice. Great. It wasn’t a dream. Just great. 

 

“Now, now, Leo. Leave ‘im alone. He’s been a good little hostage,” Bart grinned from the doorway--except it was more than that, wasn’t it? His expression was lighter, more carefree, than at the bank, filled with some deeper emotion that Ray couldn’t place--a fondness he couldn’t fathom in the given context.

 

His confusion must have shown on his face, because with a roll of his his eyes Leo gave him a rundown of their plans for him. 

 

“Easy Bluenose, nothing’s gonna happen to ya. Here’s how it’s gonna go. Me ‘n Bart, here are gonna wait it out ‘til the fuzz leave, and then we’ll split. You’re here just in case we catch any heat.” Leo drawled, his entire demeanor a carbon copy of Snart’s down to his posture. 

 

“Great, so I’m a human shield.” Ray hoped the team realized he was gone by now, because this was getting repetitive. Literally every other mission they go on, he gets captured or held at gunpoint. 

 

“Ehh...more along the lines of insurance.”

 

“Like that makes it any better,” Ray grumbled bitterly, getting a laugh out of Leo, which was better than making him angry, so point for Ray. 

 

“As long as you don’t start any trouble, you’ll be fine,” Barry chimed in, leaning back against the kitchen counter with familiar ease. Ray nodded, his head falling back against the wall in tired acceptance.

 

“So, why’d you rob the bank?” Ray asked staring at the cracks running along the ceiling. Some water damage at the corner, but otherwise, this place was pretty nice for 1922. 

 

“Ain’t it obvious? Money,” Leo huffed, though his eyes trailed over to Bart, who rolled his eyes in return. And there it was again, that  _ fondness _ that glazed over Bart’s expression--Leo’s too. It reminded Ray of the looks his parents gave each other back when he was a kid. That gentle understanding and respect held in their gazes as they tucked him in bed.

 

He made some aborted movement towards Bart--maybe to put his hand on Bart’s shoulder or something of the like--, freezing with a glance at Ray, momentarily forgetting that he and Bart were not alone. Though, Ray couldn’t help but wonder what Leo would have done if they were. Bart caught the gesture, and smirked in a half-amused half-exasperated sort of way. 

 

“Bank’s closed 2 , Bearcat. We got company. Gotta behave,” Bart teased, tracing his long fingers down Leo’s face, before turning on heel and strutting out of the room. And with each step that roguish grin diminished into that all too familiar smirk his ancestor(?) inherited. 

 

With a meaningful glare thrown at Ray, Leo practically sprinted after Barry, leaving Ray by himself. Alone. Tied to a radiator. Fun.

* * *

The next two and a half hours--or at least what Ray assumed to be two and a half hours--, Ray sat there bored out of his mind, alternating between trying to find someway to break the ropes binding his wrists and contacting the others through his comm. But sadly, he was unsuccessful in both tasks, opting to try to eavesdrop on the two criminals to see if the mentioned anything about the mysterious artifact.

 

He jumped as Bart entered the room, pulling a bit to hard on the ropes and letting out a pained hiss. Man, his arms are going to be so sore when he gets out of here. Bart, at least, look emphatic, wincing along with Ray. 

 

“Sorry about that. And ya know, this entire situation in the first place.”

 

“Eh, it‘s fine,” Ray shrugged. “This isn’t my first kidnapping believe it or not.”

 

“Oh really,” Bart smiled disbelievingly, raising a dark eyebrow in bemused skepticism. 

 

“Yep,” Ray replied brightly, perking up at the attention. “I’m basically a professional hostage.”

 

That startled a laugh out of Bart, trying to muffle the loud snort with both his hands unsuccessfully. Giggles kept slipping through his hands, infecting the surrounding atmosphere with mirth and joy despite the situation. 

 

“Well, then I’m glad Leo picked an expert hostage to kidnap. Wouldn’t want to have to deal with any newbies, now would we?” It was so hard for Ray to picture Bart as a bad guy. Even when he was breaking the law, he was polite and blindingly sunny. 

 

The room got quieter as Bart’s laughter died down, the reality of the circumstances weighing down on the two men. Ray knew he shouldn’t--frankly, it was none of his business--, but he had to ask.

 

“Bart? Why did you rob that bank?” At Bart’s wary look, Ray elaborated, “I mean, you just don’t seem like the type of person to break the law.”

 

Bart didn’t respond for a moment, staring intently at the dull off white mortar in between the cherry red tiles. 

 

“People aren’t always who they seem.”

 

“But you are.” argued Ray. “You have been nothing but kind and respectful to me since the bank. And I refuse to believe that this-” Ray gestured to Bart’s pistol tucked in his pocket wildly, “-is who you really are.”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Bart shot back, an air of frustration taking over as his hands threaded through his wild, unruly hair. 

 

“It doesn’t matter what you believe, ‘cause this ain’t about you, this ain’t about the money. This is about fighting for what I believe in. And that is a battle I’ll always win, because I’ll never fight it alone.” 

 

Biting his cheek, Ray spoke quieter--practically a whisper--, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline in shock, “It was for him?”

 

Judging from how fast Bart’s head snapped up with wide silver-dollar eyes, the tension draining out of his shoulders instantly, Ray took that as a yes.

 

“You did it for him, didn’t you? For Leo.” 

 

The silence grew louder, colder, more unsure of what was to come, which was reasonable. This was the 1920’s after all. This sort of relationship Ray was implying was way more than taboo; it was a crime.

 

“You’ll die, you know,” Ray croaked, his voice thick all of the sudden, swamped with the pure grief that came with that realization. 

 

“We all die. It’s only a matter of when. Besides, blaze of glory, right?” With a crooked, broken smile, he looked up, his eyes shining a bit, his mind probably millions of miles away from this conversation, reliving a time that has well since passed.

 

“But-”

 

“Want something to eat?” Bart interrupted, turning towards the stove, avoiding Ray’s eyes. 

 

“What?”

 

“Are you hungry? We don't have much right now, but I could whip up some eggs if you wanted?” 

 

Although he wanted to push further--to understand how a good person could risk his life for someone like Leo, he didn't push, recognizing the almost desperate look in Bart’s eyes to drop it. Ray doubted he would ever truly understand the younger man’s motivations anyway. It was something innate and instinctual that could not be learned, only shared with someone extremely special.

 

“...Sure. Eggs sound delicious.”

 

Bart smiled tightly, the relief radiating off of his body almost tangible, walking into the kitchen to prepare the food.

* * *

 

“Raymond! Where are you?” Professor Stein called through the comms. Finally! Seriously,  how long does it take to respond to a distress call? It was almost three hours after he initially tried contacting the team, twenty minute since Bart left the room to talk to Leo--probably illegal, robbery-related business that Ray honestly didn’t want to know.

 

Checking the room for anyone else, Ray responded in a whisper, “Not sure exactly. Umm not too far from the city, I can still hear the traffic faintly. From what I can see, I'm in an old farmhouse. By the harbor! Heard some sea gulls a few minutes back.”

 

“How long were you in the car when the took you hostage?”

 

“I've no idea. I was kind of unconscious. Couldn't have been too far, especially with these Model T’s people drive around. Their gas mileage must be terrible.”

 

“Hmmm…The shipping yard in the southern district? There are records of quite a few farms on the coastside later abandoned and refitted for work during the Depression in the West. It’s twenty-nine miles from the bank, hidden in the rural part of the city, but not to far from downtown San Francisco.” He paused a minute, then said in a low voice, “We’re coming Raymond.”

* * *

 

“We’re gonna get caught. ‘S just a matter of time now.” Ray’s head perked up at the sound of Bart’s voice coming from the other room. He peeked his head out, trying to get a look at the two through the open door, but couldn’t see anything besides the back of Leo’s cream jacket and matching slacks.   

 

“No we ain’t. Just have a little faith baby.” 

 

“Faith? This ain’t about faith, Léonce! We’re on the lam with no place to go, an’ we’re wasting time squatting here when we could’ve been halfway to Oakland by now!” Bart whisper-shouted, his voice shaking with stress and worry. There was a soft rustle, the sound of fabric shifting and bunching slightly, followed by a heavy sigh. Neither spoke for a while, which led Ray to believe they were embracing each other or something of the like.  

 

“Once we get trade off our friend in the other room, we can take our...earnings and go anywhere we want,” Leo murmured, his voice low and muffled, like his mouth was pressed up against--nope. Ray was not going there. Bad brain! Bart exhaled sharply. Again,  _ not going there _ . 

 

“Los Angeles…Vegas…Seattle…” purred Leo leaning forward into Bart, a wet suction sound--and yep that was a kiss--and a shaky sigh following each city name. Ray really wished he could turn off his ears, because this was quickly travelling into the ‘Ray really doesn’t need to know’ category.

 

However before things could get too steamy in the other room, they stopped, pulling apart, the sound of a motor in the distance slowly growing louder. Leo shifted and walked out of view, steps tense and stiff. They both looked at each other, some choice expletives slipping past pursed lips, nodding in silent agreement.

 

Splitting up, Bart tip-toed to the left into the kitchen while Leo walked up to Ray a cloth gag in one hand, a gun in the other. 

 

“Now, open wide.”

* * *

 

“Raymond!” Snart whisper-shouted. Ray could hear him clearly, so he had to be close. 

 

“Hnngh!” Ray groaned in return, trying to warn the others of the waiting criminals. The gag however prevented his mouth from moving, the cloth lodged in his jaw to where any movement would cause him to choke. He struggled against his bonds, knocking against the wall behind him softly in an attempt to alert Snart of his position.

 

A few moments later, Snart walked through the doorway followed by Kendra, Sara, Rory, Professor Stein, and Jax. 

 

“Well, well, well, Raymond. Got yourself kidnapped again. Congratulations,” Snart drawled, almost bored.

 

Kendra surges forward worriedly, helping him out of his bonds. “Ray! Are you okay?”

 

“Hrrngh!!!” Ray said rumbled anxiously, eyes darting around for the two lurking cons. Kendra quickly removed the gag, helping him up as he scrambled to his feet, rubbing rubbed his sore wrists. 

 

“Guys run now! It’s a trap!”

 

“Too late for that, I’m afraid,” Leo’s calm, cold voice came from the other side of the room. He pointed his tommy gun at Ray and took a few slow steps forward, that familiar smirk etched on his face. Ray could see the rest of his team freeze at the doppelganger. Snart adopted an unreadable expression as he stared at Leo, who barely spared his twin a glance, totally unperturbed.

 

“I gotta say, Ray, I’m disappointed. Trying to run out on us like that, and after all we went through together?” He tutted slowly, shaking his head. 

 

Before he could respond, Bart answered from the doorway opposite of Leo holding his Colt pistol. His stance was relaxed, casually leaning against the doorframe, however his entire focus was centered on Ray and the five other intruders. Their reaction was instantaneous to the Barry-look alike. Firestorm and Kendra gasped, in total shock. Sara and Rory looked on with mild interest, neither having ever met present day Barry. Snart cocked his head in focused curiosity, like Bart was a puzzle he was trying to mentally solve. 

 

“The utter audacity. I’m heartbroken.” It looked like Bart was attempting to school his features like Leo, but the amusement in his eyes was bright and revealing. He enjoyed the banter with his partner too much to ever stay stoic, which is probably why their relationship worked as seamlessly as it did; they complimented each other--completed each other in ways that they couldn’t possibly be without the other. 

 

Bart, like Leo, didn’t react largely to a second Snart, only raising an eyebrow in a blase manner.

 

“Hey, we're not going to rat you out. We just want to go home. Let us get out of your hair.” Ray was proud of himself for keeping his voice steady in the face of two guns. As he turned to take a step back, both Leo and Bart raised their guns. Rory and Snart raised both of their weapons in response, Sara, Kendra, and Firestorm taking defensive positions as well. 

 

“Easy there, Bluenose. Don’t wanna start something that’ll disturb the neighbors, now would we?” Despite the even tone of his voice, Ray could sense some deeper desperation in Leo’s eyes. He didn’t want to kill him--No, that wasn’t it. Leo didn't seem like the type who cared much about civilian casualties. No, Leo didn’t want to start anything. The odds were two to six; he and Bart were horribly outnumbered. No, he didn't care about Ray; he didn’t want Bart to get hurt. After all, Bart had never been in a situation like this. 

 

Ray couldn’t help but respect that. He knew what it was like to fail the person you love and wouldn’t wish that on anyone. By making himself more threatening, Leo drew any potential conflict away Bart and towards himself….Ray struggled to find a reason to hate the man. 

 

“Alright, how about everyone calms down, okay?” Kendra tried to pacify the growing tensions in the room. No one wanted this to end in bloodshed. “How about everyone puts their weapons down, and we talk this out like rational adults?”

 

Bart and Leo shared a glance, having an entire conversation that no one else could understand with one look. Bart bit his lip uncertainly as the tension drained from his shoulders. As he slowly lowered his pistol, he muttered, “Alright, let’s talk. But don’t be taking any wooden nickels 3 .”

 

After that, every calmed down a bit, the only one still armed being Leo. However, Bart walked over and whispered something soft in his ear that seemed to relax him enough to at least lower his submachine gun, though he refused to drop it, which was all they could really ask for.

 

“Look, we really don’t want to cause any problems or anything. We just want to get outta here, but before we can do that, we need one little thing,” Ray began, but trailed off at the scoffs from both Bart and Leo. 

 

“Mr. Raymond, please don’t take us for fools. You got a bunch of fancy gizmos on your person. Them two,” Leo said, pointing to Mick and Snart, “both’ve weapons to which I have never seen before--which is saying something. And let’s not even mention that him and I have an uncanny resemblance.” 

 

With a side glance at his counter-part and a smirk, Leo continued, “You’re obviously not from around here. Probably involved in some sorts trouble we’d rather remain neutral to.”

 

“We ain’t got time for liars.”

 

Ray, the intelligent inventor he was, responded with the utmost poise and wisdom. “Uhhhh whaaaat? We’re not--!”

 

With a bored sigh, Snart drawled, “What Raymond here was trying to say, was that whatever you’re insinuating is wrong. We’re simply new to the area and wanted to see the sights. However, dear Raymond decided to place a very important item in the very bank you robbed. We would like it back, if you don’t mind.”

 

Before Leo could make some scathing, unimpressed retort, Bart placed a hand on his arm back, an unimpressed expression on his face. After a few moments of silence to which Bart and Leo seemed to have an entire conversation with their eyes, Bart looked over at Ray. 

 

“Let’s say we believe you. Why would we help? It’s ours, finders keepers and all that.” Bart kept his tone curious, presenting his question as something casual and innocent, as if the room wasn’t filled with armed criminals prepared to shoot each other at a moment’s notice. 

 

Before Ray could answer, however, Len cut in. “Quid pro quo. You give us the small, practically worthless item back, and we won't rat you out to the cops.” 

 

“Really?” Challenged Leo. “You assume you’re leaving here alive.”    
  


Snart didn’t bat an eye, taking the off-hand threat in stride. “Killing us will only give you more trouble. The cops could confuse my body for yours, but then your partner here would take all the heat. Not to mention the fact that the odds of you winning this fight is 1 to 3.”

 

The apprehension in the room was almost tangible for a solid minute before it broke, Leo cracking a grin. “I like the way you think. Well, looks like we got a deal….for now.”

 

With that Bart addressed Ray. “What is this aforementioned artifact we stole?”

 

“A golden dagger with an inscription on the blade written in Egyptian hieroglyphics,” Kendra piped up, glancing unsurely between Leo and Bart. Despite her wariness, however, her shoulders are squared and posture strong, the ferocity of the warrior hawk goddess blazing in her eyes. 

 

Leo hummed, scratching his chin in a lazy sort of contemplation. God, the Snarts could make everything look sarcastic, couldn’t they? He looked over at Bart. 

 

“Hmm...I don’t know, Bart. Do you remember stealing a dagger? Seems like too much work. We’d have’ta find a buyer, make sure they’re trustworthy, fence it, them cover our tracks. We like to profit immediately, thank you very much.”

 

Sara looked unphased, her eyes narrowing in that dangerous, will-maybe-commit-murder sort of way. “That’s why you weren’t planning on selling it. I saw you snatch it back at the bank.” 

 

“Why’d you steal a dagger?” Bart asked, his eyes shining in amused confusion. 

 

Ray could have been seeing things, but he could have sworn Leo’s cheeks flushed pink as he averted his eyes to the floor, avoiding Bart’s face. 

 

“It was a surprise,” he mumbled, barely audible. “For you.” He reached into coat, pulling out the decorative blade wrapped in a white cloth from his interior pocket. Judging by the almost embarrassed expression on Leo’s face, this wasn’t something he normally did or felt confident doing. 

 

It was actually really cute the way Bart’s face light up like a christmas tree, his eyes widening while his face practically split in two from the force of huge smile that blossomed over his face. His eyes looked a bit teary as he huffed out a shocked breath, dark pink flushing to his cheeks, almost matching the floor tiles. Ray was surprised Bart managed to hold onto the gun hanging loosely from his hand. 

 

Leo twirled the weapon in his hands a few times, then reluctantly removed the knife and showed it to Kendra, sending a dark glare towards the rest of the time travellers, daring them to comment on rare display of embarrassment. The blade was polished and cleaned, looking more beautiful than Ray ever recalled seeing it. It looked like Leo put a real effort into making it look regal--fit for an Egyptian demigoddess, or at least, a certain partner in crime…literally. 

 

“This it?” Leo asked, averting his eyes to the floor, refusing to look at anyone.

 

“Yeah,” breathed Kendra, relieved. They all were. Finally, they would have the upper hand instead of constantly being outsmarted. This time-travelling mess might almost be over.

 

After a slight moment of hesitation, Leo relinquished the blade, albeit reluctantly. With a scowl in place, the criminal stomped out of the room, Bart on his heels after throwing a quick glance and small smile at Ray. No one moved for a good five minutes, listening in on the urgent whispers and puffs of breaths from the other room. Ray couldn’t blame them. He still didn’t understand the whole doppelganger Snart and Barry thing either. But he could see it. There was something there between the two. Something deep and powerful--perhaps even a little frightening at times--, but also delicate and easy. Their dynamic flowed seamlessly, impossibilities gliding off their backs like water. Damn, they made  _ love _ look so easy. Huh, love. That’s what it was.

 

“Well, if that’s all--” 

 

Everyone froze as the tell-tale siren blared, interrupting Leo. Bart dashed to the window, a huge entourage of police cars speeding towards the farmhouse. They were about five miles out. Too late. 

 

No one moved, their feet frozen to the floor. There was no escape. The Waverider wasn’t here, most likely back where they initially landed, right outside of San Francisco, his teammates travelling by car. And they couldn’t make a break for it now without being pursued by the police and risk altering history. Ray couldn’t fly off in his still-confiscated suit for obvious reasons, as well as Firestorm or Kendra for that matter. They were stuck.

* * *

 

“Tell me a lie.” Bart was sitting at the windowsill, knees pulled close to his chest by his arms and his head up against the glass as thunder clapped outside. His foot was bouncing up and down, practically vibrating, against the chair. 

 

Leo smiled cheekily. “You're not the most beautiful person I've ever seen.”

 

At that, Bart looked away from the window to glare at the other. “Leo...I'm serious.”

 

“So am I,” Leo replied earnestly. “I have never encountered another human being as stunning as you are. The fact that you don't realize what you do to me makes you so much sexier.” 

 

Leo peeled Barts arms from around his legs and grasped his hand, interlocking their fingers slowly, as if savoring the contact. Bart held onto Leo tight, sitting up to lean his head on the other's shoulder, Leo’s head resting on top of his own. Bart’s eyes fluttered closed, his entire body relaxing, melting into the other’s. Leo’s free hand traveled to the small of Bart’s back, rubbing slow, comforting circles into his spine. Bart was always a worrier--always fretting and doting over any cuts and bruises Leo would get on a job. It was equally endearing and exasperating. Bart had such a kind heart--so loving and caring--that he couldn’t help but try to do anything he could to ease the other’s pain. 

 

“We’re not gonna make it,” Bart whispered, his breath ghosting over Leo’s shoulder. “They’ll be here any minute now.”

 

Leo stayed quiet. There was nothing to say--not when their words were numbered. He just closed his eyes and savored the moment. This... _ them _ ...it was good--perfect. Rain poured outside, thunder boomed, but none of that mattered.  _ This _ ... _ this _ mattered--it was the only thing that mattered, and damn it! Leo wasn’t gonna let this slip through his fingers--not now, not ever. Sure, he was a pretty shitty person, a downright crook, but this beautiful god of a man in his arms? He was perfection in every sense of the word. He was Leo’s entire world, and that was enough. That made everything worth it. The poverty, the prejudice 4 , the draft, the goddamn Great War for fuck’s sake. It was so worth it. And so, with the faint sirens in the distance that would surely soon crescendo into a screaming funeral march, he held Bart close, somehow communicating everything he ever wanted to say in that embrace:  _ You make me careless--stupidly careless. I can't think straight because you're on my mind all day. Yet at the same time, you make me dangerous--so, so very dangerous--to the point where I’m prepared to kill anyone who glances your way without any bit of remorse. You make me crazy, the kind of crazy that’s aggravatingly beautiful in its own deranged way. And despite all that, you make me feel so incredibly complete and at home that I can't imagine a world where I'm not by your side. You are my other half, Bart. _

 

“I love you.” It was unclear who spoke exactly, and yet, it didn’t even matter. The words didn’t matter. Words rarely capture the magnitude of what can be seen or felt. No, they were unnecessary, shallow. Bart and Leo remained in each other’s arms, both so afraid, yet at the same time, not at all. The sirens grew louder, as the Horsemen approached, thunder booming ominously like stamping hooves. Bart glanced out the window as Leo’s arms slackened, reaching over to the coffee table. Their gazes met, and Bart understood--they both understood. When the Devil knocks on your door, you don’t let him in. Leo helped Bart up from the chair and handed him his piece. With a kiss, both men nodded and cocking their weapons and headed into the living room, the engines of automobiles roaring outside, though in the haze of the moment, the roars sounded more like ferocious neighs--the frightening screams of four unearthly stallions.

* * *

 

Ray walked into the living room, looking for Bart, and froze.

 

They weren’t being particularly suggestive or erotic, but the way Bart and Leo were both gazing into each other’s eyes, as if they each held the stars--like they were each other’s entire world--was something fragile and private. He felt like he was intruding on some intimate moment here, and it felt dirty to intrude, like he was tainting their affection with his presence. 

 

Bart’s mouth curved up into a warm smile that lit up the entire room as he moved closer to Leo, weaving their fingers together, seeming to forget about Ray’s existence, which Ray was totally fine with, really. Leo’s expression matched Bart’s in kind, a smaller but equally affectionate smile eclipsing his stoic features as he brought Bart’s hand up to his lips, on it placing a chaste kiss full of promise. His thumb rubbed rhythmic circles over his knuckles, his eyes never leaving Bart’s. Ray looked away as Bart cupped Leo’s cheek. It was strange. And yet, Ray couldn’t see anything wrong with the pair. Ray could see how someone like Snart--well, er, Leo--could fall for him. Bart, like Barry, was light in every sense of the word. He was the fiery passion to Leo’s calm logic. Yin and yang. 

 

Before could awkwardly try to ruin the moment, the wailing of sirens pierced the atmosphere.

 

They were surrounded.

* * *

 

“What are we gonna do?” Jax asked. 

 

Everyone was in various states of anxiety. It was almost comical watching Snart and Leo interact, their mannerisms almost identical. However, the gravity of the situation began to sink in for everyone. If worse comes to worse, Ray and the others could easily defend themselves against the police, however, they could seriously damage the timeline, more so than usual. Like, potentially erase themselves from time, serious. 

 

Bart looked over at Leo with some dangerous gleam in his eye that set Ray on edge--Leo too by the look of it. Leo shook his head, his eyebrows creased sharply, an almost scared desperation well in his eyes. But Bart wasn’t deterred, his expression sure and adamant. 

 

“No.” Leo growled, his hands clenching tightly. The other didn’t quite understand what was going on, not paying attention to the two crooks, but Ray was, and he didn’t like were this was headed--the dread that slowly pooled in his stomach as the subject of their disagreement became clearer. 

 

“Leo--” Bart started, interrupted by Leo.

 

“ **No.** We don’t owe them nothin’.”

 

“It’s the right thing to do, Leo.”

 

“Bart, I can’t--” Leo choked, his voice taking a desperate edge. He faltered, his eyes squeezing shut and his posture closing off. Bart took hold of Leo’s hand, his eyes soft and understanding, a shadow of fear dancing along his vibrant green irises. 

 

“I know. I know,” he whispered, pulling their foreheads together. The seemed to stay like that forever, Bart and Leo melting into each other, trying to hold onto this moment--their moment--for as long as possible, until it washed away. 

 

Then it broke.

 

“You guys go. We’ll distract ‘em.” For one of the first times in his life, Ray hated being right.

* * *

Ray and the others ran out back while Bart and Leo distracted the cops, Bart hastily returning Ray’s ‘toy’, practically throwing into his hands and pushing him out the door. Clutching onto the plastic casing, Ray ran, not looking back for a second, almost tripping when he heard the gunshots and screams behind him. Each shout, each bullet shot caused a jolt in his chest. There was no way either of the two crooks would survive.

* * *

 

When they finally got back to the Waverider, Ray asked Gideon to pull up any records pertaining to Barton Jones and Léonce Roberts. There were only seven articles. Four on various bank heists the pair pulled, two on crimes the duo were suspected of committing, and one on their deaths. They were killed on May 18, 1922 in a police shooting. The article talked about how both criminals were armed and dangerous. How they both attacked the police as soon as they arrived. How Jones was shot and killed first. How Roberts killed eight officers in a fit of rage. How one lucky cop finally managed to deliver a fatal shot to Roberts’ stomach. How Roberts crawled over to Jones’ body to die in his arms.

 

Ray’s hands shook as he thanked Gideon for the information and left the room. He felt sick. The two people he had gotten to see as almost friends in the past 48 hours were dead. Sure they weren't upstanding citizens, but despite their occupations, they were good people. They were two reckless young idealists--practically kids--who thought they were invincible because they were in love. They thought nothing could touch them as long as they had each other and, now they were dead. Ray sank to the floor and allowed himself to grieve--grieve for the two lives taken, the love lost, the injustice of it all. He let himself weep for the young dreamer, who believed that one day things would get better, and they wouldn't have hide. He let himself rage for the survivor who after all his struggles, lost the one light of his life. Ray cried and hollered for Bart and Leo, his friends. They stopped in 2016, Rip deciding that they needed a break, which he wasn’t wrong. Ray’s mind was reeling with unwanted emotions and thoughts. God, he needed a drink. 

 

They landed in Central City, to which Rory announced he was heading straight to the bar. Ray took that as an invitation and tagged along, much to the others’ disbelief. Ray could hardly care at the moment. Right now, everything was too  _ raw _ , too fresh in his mind. 

 

The bar was called Saints and Sinners--definitely one of the seedier pubs out here, but Ray was not complaining. As soon as they went inside, Ray knocked back a pint of the strongest liquor they had, which impressed Mick, so bonus. It burned and tasted like gasoline, but it muted all of those pesky feelings right away, so Ray didn’t mind; he could handle the needling pain of 73% alcohol over dealing with the mission.

 

Three drinks later and Ray was properly smashed. His feet had long since stopped responding to his brain, which left him stumbling like a drunken idiot--rephrase: like an idiot. He was well aware of his inebriation, especially when Mick started to sound like the smarter of the two. He left shortly after Mick started a brawl, stumbling his way outside, where he saw something strange. Snart and Barry sitting at a table in Jitters, having coffee. Barry was laughing at something Snart said, a wide smile eclipsing his entire face, while sipping from a cup of--what was that? Tea?--while Snart sat across from him. The most interesting thing about their interaction, however, was the small, genuine smile that graced Snart’s face. It wasn’t a patronizing smirk or sarcastic. It was a real, pleasant smile full of promise. Directed towards Barry. His supposed nemesis.

 

For just a moment, Snart and Barry blurred into Bart and Leo, holding hands over the table while flashing content smiles at each other. But then it washed away, the ghosts of the dead dissipating, reverting back to Barry and Snart. The alcohol dimmed the strike of pain that struck through his chest at the memory, mostly overpowered by this feeling of peace. From the looks of it, history was repeating itself. 

  
Huh. Ray grinned like a madman as he stumbled towards the Waverider. Perhaps, everything happened just as it was supposed to.

**Author's Note:**

> 1 name of a popular dance  
> 2 slang for no kissing or making out.  
> 3 slang for don’t do anything dumb  
> 4 a tribute to Wentworth Miller’s heritage. He is mixed race, so I made Leo mixed, and since this is set in the 1920’s, there would obviously be a lot of prejudice and racism thrown his way.


End file.
